


Ameliorate

by oldandnewfirm



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldandnewfirm/pseuds/oldandnewfirm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> Belle hates to see Rumplestiltskin upset. She thinks she might have come up with a new way to soothe him. A quick PWP because this fandom suffers from a tragic lack of fellatio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ameliorate

Belle had learned she could tell much about Rumplestiltskin’s mood based on his choice of outfit. Pale hues and silk suited his good humors, spiked leather and the colors of rot and old blood his ill. It was in the latter she found him after her ears had led her to the conservatory, from which a stream of poignant notes floated even as she opened the door.

For a second, as he raised his head from his cello, Rumplestiltskin looked a thousand years old. But his features lifted at the sight of her, even if the exhaustion didn’t leave his eyes.

“Afternoon, dearie.”

She nodded and crossed the room to join him on the settee. With a wave of his hand he returned the cello to its stand a few feet away, and Belle was able to settle against him more comfortably. Or at least as comfortably as the stiff dragon hide he wore allowed.  

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she slipped an arm around his shoulders.

“Nothing you need worry about. Just an old man alone with his thoughts.”

She frowned and ran her fingers over his vest. “Anything I can do?”

He considered her for a moment. The echo of a smile crossed his face.

“Perhaps if you can think of some distraction…”

She caught his meaning at once and smiled back. She made a show of tapping her chin before she smirked and reached over to brush his hair behind his ear. “I can think of a few things, actually. But there’s one I’ve been wanting to try.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head. “What’s that?”

“When we were in Sirar, I met some women who worked in a brothel—”

“A brothel? I didn’t realize you’d begun keeping such colorful company, Belle.”

She rolled her eyes. “—And we spoke about _many_ things. However, yes, the conversation did eventually turn to their profession, and they started sharing techniques, and well…”

He shook his head. “Where was I when all of this was happening?”

“Terrifying some poor Sirarran into giving you a discount for the use of his camel, if I recall.”

“What he was asking was outrageous! I don’t like to be cheated by word or by purse, dearie. If you knew what the usual price for a camel is, you’d agree with me.”

“ _Anyway._  I thought we could experiment.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Experiment how?”

Carefully, she slid off his lap and dropped to her knees on the floor. He cocked his head and pinched his brows together.

“What are you doing?”

She reached forward and started tugging on the lace of his breeches. “I’m told that men and women are much alike in that…” she hesitated for a moment, finding that she wasn’t quite brave enough to say the words aloud without blushing. “…we both enjoy being pleasured by mouth. I know we’ve never done anything like that, so if you don’t want to that’s fine, but I thought it might make a nice change…”

She trailed off when she realized that he still hadn’t spoken. She freed his laces from their knot and looked up to see that he’d gone wide eyed.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“Sure about wanting to stop?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Sure you’d like to try it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m down here, aren’t I?”

“Well…yes. But I’d thought…”

She frowned slightly. “Wait. Have you been wanting to me to do this the whole time?”

“And I was hoping to reciprocate,” he added, looking a touch bashful himself now. “I didn’t think you’d approve. Many would consider this particular act…unseemly.”

“Many do little more in bed than lie back and thinking of crown and country.” She danced her fingers along the insides of his thighs. The strips of leather on his boots scraped against her skin. “I think our bed is more interesting than that.”

“Quite right, dearie,” he said, grinning. The morose edge to his features had eased over the course of their conversation. She pulled him free of his breeches, and he sighed and leaned back.

He was soft, still, though she knew he would increase in girth and length as arousal overtook him. For a moment she considered starting with him in her mouth, then she decided that with no knowledge of her own capacity, she’d rather begin with him erect and work forward from there. It took little effort on her part to get him to that state: on most occasions, the anticipation of intimacy alone seemed to swell him.

She remembered how imposing his member had seemed the first time she’d lain with him. Even though she’d desired him she’d still been nervous, and that feeling returned to her now. Could she even take him into her mouth?

There was only one way to find out she supposed. But she couldn’t quite muster the courage to try. She decided to start off smaller: a taste, first, to see how she liked it.

She held his member steady with a hand, then leaned forward, her tongue peeking out between her lips. It flew back into her mouth almost as soon she’d made contact with him, like she’d licked an iron beam in winter.

Amusement colored his features. “It’s not poisonous, I can assure you.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, but he was right: on her tongue was a fading hint of salt sweat, likely a consequence of the clinging leather he wore, but excepting that the taste of his member bore little difference to that of the rest of him.

“If you’re going to laugh at me I won’t do it,” she warned, though she was smiling herself. He mimed a blood vow by crossing his heart, then the humor in his face faded to a look that made her body eager to welcome him in a different way. But she’d wondered about this act for some time, and Rum seemed cheered by the prospect of it, so she’d at least try it once before switching to more traditional pleasures.

Feeling more confident now, she closed her lips over the head of him, earning something like a soft grunt from above. Encouraged, she leaned forward, taking more of him in, and as she did so she drew her tongue in a brisk circle over him. This, too, seemed to please him, though when she repeated it a few more times his hand found her hair and twisted in it gently.

“A bit slower, dearie,” he murmured, “and move it in and out.” She tilted her head to look up at him. He was slumped against the settee back, his eyes half lidded and his lips parted slightly even in rest. She opened her mouth wider, meaning to gauge his approval as she followed his directions, but his new vantage alone seemed to enflame him: he inhaled sharply and his eyes grew wide and dark, with an almost predatory gleam.

A touch of wickedness overtook her at that. She ventured further than before, slipping him out of her mouth so that she could work her way down his shaft with tongue and careful fingers, never breaking eye contact with him. His nostrils flared as his breath quickened. His pulse raced beneath her tongue.

She took him into her mouth properly again, but she could still feel his stare burning into her as she thrust her mouth forward and back over him as he might do when he buried himself inside of her. The thought sent a throb of need through her that made her lament the layers between her fingers and the part of her that so wanted to be touched.

But if she couldn’t have him one way, she could the other, and so she pushed herself further until the almost ticklish sensation of his head sliding over the roof of her mouth and the sensitive flesh of her tongue abruptly gave way to the feeling that someone had clamped a fist over her windpipe. Rumplestiltskin’s hand drew her back as she sputtered.

He touched her cheek. “All right?” he asked, frowning.

She swallowed a few times, then nodded. A blush crept up her neck. “Sorry. I was trying to get more of it in.”

“Now, now, not so fast—wouldn’t want you to choke yourself.”

So saying, he made a ring of his thumb and forefinger just below the head of his member, so that her next tentative push forward stopped at this new boundary. It was certainly more comfortable, if a little disappointing, but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, her concentration there made him go slack with pleasure. His eyes, she saw, had slipped shut, and his fingers curled and uncurled in her hair as he sighed. All traces of his ill mood had fled him, and that was enough to satisfy her.

She felt drunk on the heavy scents of sex and leather, and the drunkenness in turn made her bold. She sucked and nibbled at his fingers, enticing him to press them inside her mouth and stroke her tongue in much the same way his member had. She mouthed the seam between his balls and the leather they were still partially masked by, and she pinned his legs with her hands as he twitched and moaned. His member was warm and slick as it bobbed against her cheek. Worried that she was neglecting it, she began stroking him as she knew he liked.

Suddenly he said her name and gave her hair a short, firm tug. She leaned back, blinking at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t want to soil your hair, dearie,” he said. “Or your face.”

It took her a moment to realize his meaning. When she did she blushed even more and managed a small “Oh,” before she straddled his lap and her hand resumed its familiar attentions on him. He kissed her, his tongue tracing over every surface of her mouth like he was hunting down every hint of his own flavor. His hands stroked her breasts, her sides, her hips, and almost in reflex Belle began riding his thigh. The leather of his boots was stiff and rough even through her undergarments, and the many ridges of the laces caught her in a way that made her gasp and tremble.

He broke away from her suddenly, his face contorted in what looked like pain. It was an expression that had frightened her the first time, but now she knew well enough that she only had to grip him a little tighter before he growled and came. He bucked spasmodically into her hand until he was spent, leaving her wrist and fingers sticky and warm.

Might it have been so bad to remain between his knees for this? She raised a finger to her mouth and flicked her tongue over it experimentally, as she’d done before. He tasted bitter and a little salty, and the texture reminded her of raw eggs. It wasn’t something she’d have particularly enjoyed consuming in volume. She was glad, then, that he had coaxed her away. But he was looking at her so eagerly that she brushed all distaste from her expression, and when she leaned in to kiss him again he seemed just as eager to chase the trace of him on her tongue.

“Experiment successful, then?” she asked as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Not that she doubted he’d enjoyed himself, when he lay sleepy and boneless.

His huff of laughter ruffled her hair. “Let’s just say, love, that if you wish to conduct similar ones in the future, I’d be happy to volunteer.”


End file.
